A Different Nature
Published online by Cambridge University Press: 20 January 2021
Summary
Il y a toujours un rapport secret entre le voyageur et la terre qu’il paraît choisir pour s’arrêter.
There is always a secret bond between the traveler and the land where he apparently elects to rest.
Jean EpsteinJean Epstein’s writing highlighted cinema as the preeminent modern form, addressing the changing nature of labor and its fatigue, the new relative conception of time and space, and the virtuosity with which the camera machine gave perceptual access to a nerve-wracking world. His films were dramatic vignettes about love, friendship, and loss that engaged in variations of speed, magnifications of objects and bodies, manifold angles, and superimpositions. The films operated in parallel pursuit with his theoretical work to meet perception’s evolving demands. These qualities situate Epstein comfortably within the historical avant-garde, and indeed his writings are a continuous point of reference for filmmakers and theorists alike to describe a radically different, modernist cinema throughout much of the history of experimental film. Shattered perception, speed, and movement were key to both his films and his theoretical writing, which emphasized the ways the moving image could make bodily contact with the spectator. The significance of the camera’s mechanical nature to accomplish this bodily effect comes through clearly in his evocation of other sorts of moving transport:
The landscape may represent a state of mind. It is above all a state. A state of rest. Even those landscapes most often shown in documentaries of picturesque Brittany or of a trip to Japan are seriously flawed. But “the landscape’s dance” is photogenic. Through the window of a train or a ship’s porthole, the world acquires a new, specifically cinematic vivacity. A road is a road but the ground which flees under the four beating hearts of an automobile’s belly transports me. The Oberland and Semmering tunnels swallow me up, and my head, bursting through the roof, hits against their vaults. Seasickness is decidedly pleasant. I’m on board the plummeting airplane. My knees bend.
Cinema begins with the external world; in this case, a landscape passes through the machine and ends affecting the body. From a moving vehicle, landscape becomes a ‘landscape dance’ that moves the body.
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- Information
- Jean EpsteinCritical Essays and New Translations, pp. 177 - 194Publisher: Amsterdam University PressPrint publication year: 2012